Pictures of Peril
by Mell8
Summary: The ability to draw can lead to: stalking, arrests, spying, true love, and...saving the world? Now if only Ginny can save Draco from the consequences of drawing as well.


Pictures of Peril

By Mell8

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A.N. So, those of you who have been following me for a while know that in the upcoming section of my stories in my profile a story called _Pictures of Peril_ has been sitting there for years. This is that story. It took me years, a couple re-writes, much editing, and a few "I'm never going to finish this damned thing"-s, but here it is!

I really hope you all like it! Also, for those of you who read a lot of my stories, you know that I like to play with separated past/present scenes. Hopefully they're distinct enough for you to understand when the perspective switches.

Enjoy!

Mell8

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"You don't understand!" Ginny yelled over the stunned cries that rang through the hearing room. She met the hard gazes of the Wizengamot with the full force of her passion as she held Draco's hand through the chains that bound him to the chair.

"The man you are convicting was a Death Eater, yes." She nodded and quickly pointed her wand towards the advancing guards. "But you are also looking at a spy, the spy who is responsible for saving the entire world and winning us the war against Voldemort!"

"Why should we believe you, Miss Weasley?" The Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot stood, outraged, from his seat. "You may be a war hero but you have been missing for over five years! The world has changed now; sanctions have been put in place that don't allow anyone to just waltz into a hearing such as this and demand a convict's freedom!"

Ginny forcefully checked her anger and consented with fixing the man with a glare. "I am not ignorant of the new laws," she hissed through clenched teeth. "One new law states that if someone has something to say, in defense or to condemn, in a criminal hearing, then that person's plea should be heard and considered."

"And why should we consider your "plea"?" he snarled.

"Because," Ginny answered in a soft voice that nonetheless rang throughout the crowded room. "I can't draw…and he can."

The room was silent in shock for well over a minute before the Chief Warlock suddenly sat down in his seat. "Very well, Miss Weasley. We will hear what you have to say."

Ginny smiled and gave Draco's hand a squeeze before boldly stepping forward to the center of the room.

"The first time I really spoke with Draco Malfoy was in my sixth year. It was the night of that terrible storm when lightning hit the Astronomy Tower and three couples had to be taken to the Hospital Wing to be treated for burns."

Ginny paused to take half a second to collect herself before continuing.

"I've always been fascinated by lightning, which explains why I was out of bed that night. I wanted to watch the storm up close but I wasn't fool enough to go somewhere I could be struck. I knew of an old classroom that had these huge picture windows and cushions on the seats, but when I got there, Draco had taken up my spot…

…Ginny pushed the door open a little too quickly in her eagerness to get to the window. It slammed on the opposite wall and made both Ginny and the person sitting in her seat at the window jump.

"Merlin! God damn it!" the person swore. He spun to glare at the door but the darkness hid both his and Ginny's identities.

"Now look what you've done," he continued angrily. "Even with an eraser I'll never get this mark out. Now I have to start over!" He ripped a long sheet of parchment off the pad in his lap, crinkled it up, and threw it at Ginny. "I suggest you leave," he added as he turned his attention back towards the window.

"I have just as much right to be here as you do," Ginny hissed as she carefully closed the door and bent down to pick up the wad of paper at her feet.

She unwrinkled it and gasped. In her hands she held a beautiful sketching of the boiling night sky done in black and white pencil. She couldn't help marveling at how the shading reflected exactly how the light fell across the ground from the jagged streaks of light blurring through the heavens. The only flaw to the drawing was a thick line down one side of the paper that must have been from when she had startled the artist with her abrupt entrance.

Ginny glanced up from the picture and saw that the boy was back at work. His pencil danced across the page as his eyes flickered between the scenery and his work.

She crept closer. She had originally come to see the lightning but found that nature's wonder paled before the curiosity of this artist. Ginny glanced down at the parchment eagerly when she reached the boy's side.

So far he had only sketched outlines and basic landmarks. There were subtle differences between this new drawing and the one Ginny held in her hands, mostly due to the shifting winds and the way the moon was starting to show through the thinner clouds. He captured it all with gentle strokes with his long fingers and thin palms.

But the moment was ruined when a huge jolt of thunder shook the castle and Ginny gasped. His head shot up just as a bolt of lightning fell outside the window, illuminating her face even though his stayed in shadow. She could almost feel his eyes widening in shock before he jumped out of his seat and fled the room.

Ginny watched, open mouthed, as this unknown boy fled at the sight of her.

His sketchbook fell to the ground with a clatter.

III

"Malfoy, take a look at this. I need your type of expertise." Professor Snape dropped a crinkled bit of old parchment on his desk.

"What am I looking at, Sir?" Draco asked as he stopped packing away his potions supplies to glance up at his Professor.

"I want to know if you can decipher what the artist was aiming to draw when she drew this."

Blaise leaned over Draco's shoulder and snorted. "It could be anything. Art always looks like a bunch of useless scribbles to me."

"And now you know why everyone considers you to be an uncouth barbarian," Draco sneered at his friend. "Now, move. You're blocking the light."

Draco bent down to look at the drawing with a discerning eye. "It could be a cloud drawing," he began slowly. "Was the artist trying to portray a cloud in the shape of a burning house?"

"Hardly," Snape sniffed his disdain. "This was supposed to be a drawing of one of the potions ingredients for a Hiccupping Solution. I believe she meant to draw a stalk of dittany."

"So, perhaps the cloud shape and the odd flames were meant to be the leaves and petals?" Draco asked as he turned his head to the side to get a different perspective.

"But that doesn't explain where the house comes from…" Blaise laughed loudly.

"Don't you have advanced Arithmancy to get to, Mr. Zabini?" Snape hissed as he pulled the artwork towards him.

Blaise just shrugged. "I'll wait for Draco."

"Well then," Snape began as he scribbled a giant "T" for Troll on the homework assignment. "Draco, I have an extra credit assignment for you, one that will ensure you a better score than Miss Granger at the end of the school year. Are you interested?"

"I am," Draco said, excitement flashing in his eyes. Even with all the biased help he had been receiving from Snape, somehow he always came out half a step behind the mudblood. He had been badgering Snape for extra credit of this sort for three weeks. "What does it entail?"

"I want you to teach this student the rudiments of drawing so that I never again have to torture my eyes with this filth."

"I'm to assume that I will be overseeing her detentions as well?" Draco asked as he watched Snape add, "Three nights of detention for your lack of effort on an important assignment," next to the T.

"Yes," Snape nodded. "I don't care how you go about doing it, I just want it done. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Draco gathered the last of his belongings and joined Blaise by the door.

"Well that was interesting," Blaise said as they took off for advanced Arithmancy. "I didn't think you had told Snape about your little habit."

"Who did you think has been supplying me with all of the equipment I can't buy at Hogsmeade? He bought me my sketchbook for my last birthday."

"Where is your sketchbook?" Blaise asked gently. It was surprising to him, one of the few who knew about Draco's fetish, to see the blond without his precious book.

"I dropped it," Draco hissed.

"And where is it now?" Blaise said leadingly.

"Weasley has it."

"Since we haven't been hearing loud bellowing about stalkers and protecting his sister from Weasel-King, I'm assuming that you're talking about the girl?"

Draco nodded painfully.

"That's bad," Blaise gulped.

"That's very bad," Draco agreed as they rounded the corner and entered their classroom just as the bell signaling the beginning of class rang.

III

Ginny sighed as she tossed her potions assignment in the trash. She didn't really care that she had gotten a T; no one in Gryffindor would blame her for doing poorly in Snape's class. What bothered her was the fact that Snape had announced to the entire class of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors that she was going to be taking remedial lessons, not for Potions, but for drawing.

Did it honestly mean anything that she couldn't accurately sketch dittany, or anything else for that matter? So she had absolutely no artistic skills, she could still make a perfect Hiccupping Solution without the need for a detailed drawing of dittany. Snape was just being purposefully obtuse.

Ginny flopped back onto her bed and squeaked when something dug into her spine. She quickly sat up and grimaced when she saw the sketchbook from the previous night. She had tossed it there in her haste to get to Potions this morning had hadn't had the chance to look inside for a name so she could return it.

"I suppose I could see who you belong to now," Ginny said to the book as she gently picked it up.

She looked under the cover for a name first but couldn't find anything.

"Maybe there's a self portrait?" Ginny wondered idly. Her hand paused before she could flip to the next page. She felt a little guilty about poking through other people's things. A sketchbook could be as private as a diary. She was pretty sure the artist had been male and since guys didn't generally have diaries, they found something else to confide in. In this case it might be a sketchbook and that made her feel bad about looking through it.

Still, she did want to be able to return the book to its owner.

She resolutely flipped over the first page and looked down at the picture for a clue. It was the sketching he had done the previous night of the storm and Ginny couldn't help but be amazed at just how beautiful it was for only a few minutes of work.

She resolutely flipped to the next page but found it empty. She didn't find another picture until the middle of the book and when she did, Ginny promptly flung the offending thing across the room.

She didn't look at the sketchbook as she gathered her books for Transfiguration and Charms and fled the room.

She didn't think about what she had seen, didn't want to think about it in fact. Because in the middle of that sketchbook was a picture of her and it was drawn so beautifully and with such care that it scared her. It meant that there was someone following her, looking at her with such interest, that they could draw a perfect likeness of her…and that meant that she had a stalker.

…

"Miss Weasley!"

Ginny looked up at the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot as his angry yell brought her out of her story.

"Yes?"she asked gently, angry that he had interrupted her. Telling this story took a lot of effort.

"As interesting as it is to hear about some boy's sketchbook and about a teenage stalker you had while at Hogwarts, I don't see how this is pertinent to Mr. Malfoy's case." His glare made Ginny's spine straighten in anger.

"You are an impatient fool," she hissed; disdain dripping from her lips as she glared up at the man. "I am telling you the background to the story and important facts that help build the story to the answer you're looking for. I already gave you the answer to your question: Draco Malfoy can draw and I can't. If you want to know the rest you are going to have to listen to me!"

"But what does this Death Eater have to do with you having a stalker?" he snarled.

Ginny laughed. "Because, you fool, Draco Malfoy was my stalker. And before you judge him for that, let me emphasize that he was merely watching me and drawing me. Nothing violent ever occurred.

"I found out that Draco was my stalker during one of my remedial lessons. After a week he had declared me impossible but was determined to get me to draw dittany so he could get the extra credit grade. His bag fell off the desk when he was swearing at me and out dropped two pencils, red and brown."

"And again," the Warlock snarled, "what does that have to do with anything?"

Ginny groaned and ran a hand through her hair. "If you would stop interrupting me I would tell you!

"The picture in the sketchbook, the one of me that scared me so badly, was done entirely in black pencil. Everything, from the lines to the shading was in varying shades of grey, except for two parts. My hair had been given a few artful lines of red and my eyes had been shaded with brown. It made the picture seem as if it was real, as if someone had taken my face and stamped it directly onto the page. And those two colored pencils matched perfectly.

"I was early arriving to my next lesson and happened to overhear Draco and Snape talking. They were having a conversation about Draco begging Snape to get him another sketchbook because he had lost his. Snape's only reply had been, "and when the Weasley brat figures out it was you drawing her, what will you do?" I walked into the room, handed Draco the sketchbook, and walked back out.

"That was the last time I spoke with Draco for two years."

Ginny settled back into her seat and stroked her thumb over Draco's knuckles before continuing her story.

"The next time I saw Draco was during the fighting at Diagon Alley. I found him hiding just down Knockturn Alley and went to confront him like any good Order member would do…

… "Malfoy," Ginny hissed, wand pointed directly at his face.

"Weasley," he nodded calmly but the wideness of his eyes and the way his hands shook belayed his fear.

"Why aren't you out there with them?" she couldn't help asking. He was a Death Eater but for some reason he wasn't wearing a white mask and wasn't shooting spells off at innocents like the rest.

"They threatened to crush my hands," he whispered. "If I didn't join them today they would have used stones to crush my hands and would have forbidden healing."

"But…" she began in a confused voice. Ginny didn't understand how that threat was enough to force this scared boy to do something he clearly detested.

"Look, Weasley," he continued with a grimace, "I draw; my whole life is about drawing. There's nothing else left for me now that they've killed my parents. That's what I do all day while they're making diabolical plans, I draw, and they want to take even that away!" He held out his pale, shaking hands beseechingly and Ginny could hardly see the similarities between these shaking appendages and the ones she remembered from that fateful, stormy night so long ago.

"And you know what the best part of all this is!" He laughed and Ginny watched, horrified, as a single tear slid down his cheek. "They don't even know that I draw. They said they'll start with my hands, move to my feet, and slowly pulverize every bone in between, and they only meant it as a generic threat. They didn't focus on my drawing because they don't even know!"

"So leave!" Ginny snapped. "Go live somewhere else, run away."

He laughed dryly. "They've got a leash on me. How else would they know that I'm still here instead of having run off? They know my every movement and if I even think about trying to leave, they'll have me killed."

"So you're just sitting there! You're just letting them do that to you! Fight, Malfoy, find some way to undermine them. You're not weak and not even you deserve this torture."

This time his laugh hurt her ears. "You have no idea what it's like, Weasley."

"No, I don't," she admitted. "But that doesn't give you the right to just give up."

He sneered and disappeared with a pop of disapparation. It took Ginny a few seconds to realize that his pop was merely the echo of the pops of all the other fleeing Death Eaters.

Three weeks later Ginny received a picture from an owl. The tawny barn owl swooped into her open window, dropped the round parcel, and swooped out before she could even blink. When she unrolled the parchment, Ginny found a black and white picture of the Atrium at the Ministry of Magic as it would look in two days during the Ministry Ball. It was wonderfully done with the moon shining down through the glass windows in the ceiling, illuminating the creatures in dark robes climbing out of the fire places en-mass. The huge clock on the wall was drawn with bold, thick strokes so she could clearly see the time, 10:54.

"That's beautiful," Luna Lovegood said as she peeked over Ginny's shoulder. "Are those wrackspurts climbing out of the fire? I've heard they enjoy rolling around in the ashes but it's usually not at night. You should tell the artist they've gotten it wrong."

Ginny laughed sadly and reached for the cup of tea she had been drinking before the owl dropped by.

"Luna, I'm pretty sure those aren't wrackspurts. In fact, I think they're Death Eaters and the person who drew this is trying to warn me."

"What do you mean?" Luna asked as she added a fifth cube of sugar to her tea. "Why would someone draw that?"

"It's all he knows how to do. I guess you could say that he's fighting the only way he knows how," Ginny smiled sadly down at the picture. She recognized the hand that had drawn this picture and was pleased that he had taken her words to heart.

"So what are you going to do with it?" Luna asked finally.

Ginny looked up at Luna with a curious expression on her face. "What should I do with it?"

"It's a warning, right? He's telling you that the Death Eaters are planning to attack the Ball."

Ginny thought for a moment. She couldn't go to the Ministry or the Prophet with it, as they would want to know her source, and just giving the picture to someone in the Order would not get word out fast enough. Then an idea hit.

"Luna, could you put this into the Quibbler? Then could you send a copy to every Order member when the printing goes out later today? The Death Eaters consider the Quibbler to be a rag, so they won't read it, but everyone who matters can be warned easily!"

Luna nodded slowly. "I'll get it printed and mailed, you go to the Order headquarters and find a way for them to believe your warning."

…

"And that day we captured fifteen Death Eaters. Two weeks later I received another picture of that quaint little Wizarding town by the Channel. We were able to save over fifty innocent lives because of that picture."

"Yes, Miss Weasley," the Chief Warlock waved his hand dismissively. "We already know about the pictures and all the Death Eaters we were able to put in jail because of them. The Ministry has every single one framed and put on display! But how can you prove that Draco Malfoy was the one actually drawing them? All we have is your word and it would seem that you are terribly biased where Mr. Malfoy is concerned."

"Then let him draw!" Ginny crowed. "Give him any piece of parchment, any quill, and any assignment, and let him draw it for you!"

She stood excitedly and clasped her hands together in front of her.

"And if you need any collaboration to see if this story is true you can ask me or my wife!" another voice rang through the hall once the gasps from Ginny's outcry faded.

Blaise Zabini and Luna Lovegood stepped into view as they made their way down the stone steps to the floor.

"We will gladly take Veritaserum and I assure you that our stories will match up exactly with Ginny's."

"You married Lovegood?" Draco asked, speaking for the first time.

"The condemned will remain silent!" the Chief Warlock snarled.

"Condemned?" Blaise gasped. "You haven't even finished his trial yet. You can't call him condemned until after the jury votes."

The Chief Warlock sniffed. "And you have something to say that will effect this trial?"

"I do," Blaise said with a nod. "You see, I was the one with the secure owl."

The Chief sighed and shook his head. "Very well. I can't foresee how this will change anything, but go ahead anyway."

Blaise nodded and stepped forward. "I was there the day Draco got back from having his conversation with Weasley. He walked into his bedroom, sick from seeing the war yet hopeful that he could do something about it.

…"She said I've given up," Draco said as he collapsed into a chair in front of the fire. "Do you think I've given up?" he asked Blaise.

Blaise looked up from the book he had been reading as he waited for Draco to escape from the chains his father had so kindly forced upon his son in the form of the Dark Mark and eternal servitude. Sometimes Blaise was glad that his mother had a fetish with killing her husbands so Blaise's own father hadn't been able to tie Blaise down like Draco was now.

"On life or on something else?" Blaise asked.

"On everything!" Draco snapped. "She said that I needed to fight to get my freedom and the fact that I wouldn't meant that I've given up."

"Then I would have to agree with this girl. Draco, you barely even lift a paintbrush any more. You're so resigned to your fate that you've given up on your life."

"You think I should fight then?" Draco asked Blaise. "I should find some way to fight for her side in the war." He paused thoughtfully. "And then I'll get killed and it will all have been useless."

"Then don't fight," Blaise sighed. "I don't care." He just wanted to get back to his book. It was much more interesting than the real world right now.

For the next week Draco sulked around his house, which wasn't all that different from his usual routine. He sat in every window seat Malfoy Manor had with his sketchbook in his lap. The pages remained empty because Draco couldn't find the will to draw anything. His mind was blank and his fingers were heavy with fatigue. He hated his life right now and not even drawing could bring any happiness.

When he was summoned to the Dark Lord two weeks after his conversation with Ginny, Draco went without a fight. She was right: he had given up. He didn't even care that he was probably about to be tortured.

"An offensive has been planned on the Ministry. We will strike while those Muggle loving fools are wasting their corruption money on music and dancing." Voldemort went on to further outline the plan, explaining times and strategies. Draco listened with half an ear, knowing he would probably be forced to attend this raid with the same amount of force as the last one. Luckily he knew the Ministry and therefore knew the best places to hide.

Draco went back home after the meeting and sat in front of his easel, paintbrush in hand and a blank mind. He forced himself to dip the brush into his paint, he didn't care what color, and slashed the brush across the canvass. He dipped again and slashed again, and again, and again.

He didn't realize he was panting for breath and holding back tears until Blaise pulled the brush out of his hands.

"Calm down, Draco," Blaise said softly. He was trying to help his friend without inciting more violence and didn't know if that was possible at this point.

"I don't know what to do anymore, Blaise," Draco said quietly in a voice that shivered with pain.

Blaise closed his eyes and took a steadying breath before he gripped Draco's shoulders and turned the blond to look at his painting.

A wide slash of red where her hair was, brown for the eyes, tan for the skin, and black surrounding her.

"So help her, like she asked. It's what your subconscious wants you to do anyway," Blaise answered.

"How?" Draco laughed hopelessly. "I can't do anything anymore."

"Draw for her," Blaise replied. "Draw."

…

"So Draco drew. He emptied his sketchbook of pages as he drew and would hand me a scroll every week that I would mail with an owl I knew wouldn't be intercepted by the Dark Lord," Blaise finished.

The Chief Warlock sniffed. "So, this criminal is supposed to be our greatest savior in this war, aside from Harry Potter? An interesting fantasy. But if he were innocent as you claim, why then did he run after the war? One would think that a man who had spied and saved countless lives would not feel the need to run like the rest of his guilty comrades."

"They got married," Luna said dreamily. "And there wasn't a single nargle in sight the whole time they were courting."

"In the middle of a war?" the Warlock laughed. "A Death Eater and an Order member meeting in the middle of a war to canoodle? Impossible. Don't lie to me, girl."

Luna just looked at the Chief Warlock with her big blue eyes empty of guile. She smiled and shook her head as if he was crazy and she was just humoring him by listening to him speak.

She turned to Draco instead. "Ginny still has all those pictures you sent her, every single one. She used to keep them at her bedside to look at whenever she was feeling lonely."

"How is this pertinent to the case?" the Chief cut in. "I am allowing you to speak only as long as you stay on topic!"

Luna shot him a look, her eyes no longer innocent looking. "I am still on topic, you Humdinger. He used to send her pictures-"

"That you would then publish in the Quibbler, we've heard this already," the Chief interrupted.

"-pictures of things that had nothing to do with the war," Luna continued determinedly. "A beautiful flower he saw one day, two deer eating in a meadow, and so much more. On her birthday he sent her a picture of a bouquet of roses and on Valentines Day he sent her a painting of a box of chocolates."

Luna paused for breath and the Chief jumped in again. "I still don't see what this has to do with Malfoy running."

"I'm getting to that," Luna snarled, finally really annoyed with the man. "The war ended and everyone was celebrating. Ginny got an owl with a scroll. On the scroll was a black and white charcoal drawing of a local café with one person on it. The man who looked remarkably like Draco was on his knee, ring out and a question on his lips. Ginny left right then and they eloped."

"He kidnapped her, you mean," the Chief hissed.

"Never," Draco snapped back. "I would never do anything to hurt her."

"Silence!" the Chief snapped. "I will not allow Death Eaters to speak in my court."

"So now I'm not allowed to speak in my own defense?" Draco asked sharply. "I thought the new laws allowed for that."

"They do," Ginny agreed.

Draco nodded decisively. "Then I will speak," he said with a glare for the Chief, who was too busy looking affronted to reply.

"I had never met Ginny Weasley before. I knew her name, of course. What Malfoy wouldn't know of the Weasleys?" He laughed at the thought of the old feud. "But the first time I really saw her she looked so…" he paused to think of an accurate word and shrugged when he came up empty, "waiflike," he finished. "Yet she had this strength to her that I envied. I used to watch her in school, and draw her. When Blaise and I came up with our scheme to help the Order, I envied her resilience. She was the name those pictures were tied to, she was the person behind the battles the Dark Lord was loosing, and the Dark Lord was furious. But she survived the assassination attempts and still took what little my cowardice could give her and used it to save so much. How could I not love her?"

He smiled wryly to himself and shook his head free of whatever thoughts were plaguing him.

"I sent her that picture, never expecting her to answer. And then she was there and she said yes." He laughed happily, looking over at Ginny who tentatively smiled back.

Luna looked at Blaise knowingly and shook her head. It would all work out for Ginny and Draco in the end. It was just odd that a trial for his life would bring them together again.

"Blaise was my witness and Luna was Ginny's. The marriage papers are signed and official, and Ginny and I went on our honeymoon."

"And yet," the Chief interrupted yet again, "the Auror report I have here on my desk states that the circumstances you and Miss Weasley were found in were not those of a married couple. I believe the term, "war zone", was used to describe the house."

"We were having a fight," Draco explained. "That happens with married couples every once in a while."

"A fight? Over what?" the Chief said skeptically.

"It's unimportant now," Draco replied. "In fact, it was for a rather foolish reason."

"Draco…" Ginny began, but was interrupted.

"I will decide what is unimportant to this farce of a trial!" the Chief Warlock snapped. "Tell the court what the fight was about, Mr. Malfoy, or I will charge you with withholding evidence."

Draco snarled and glared at the man. "The fight was about coming home to England. I wanted to move back so Ginny could be with her family again. I assumed the new Ministry would respect my war efforts and allow us to live in peace. Ginny thought otherwise. Turns out she was right.

… "Draco, they'll drag you though the mud! I know these people and I know how they work. They're just waiting to put you behind bars."

Draco looked down his nose at his wife, trying very hard to understand why she wasn't willing to do as he had suggested. She missed her family terribly, he knew that, and he also knew that it was her connection with him that caused that separation.

The only way Ginny would ever be okay with returning home was if he was the one who recommended it. Yet, now that he had, she was yelling at him and—he ducked as the clock from the mantle flew over his head—was throwing things at him.

"You want to go home, to see your family," Draco tried to explain as he ducked around the books from the bookshelf as they flew at him. He sent the last few books away with a wave of his wand and ignored the resulting impact with their china set. Magic would fix it all in a second; it was more important to understand why Ginny was angry.

But he wouldn't get that chance. Even as Ginny's magic was angrily flipping the couch over, their door was being forced open and black clad Aurors were storming their house. Draco was arrested and Ginny was put into protective custody.

…

"And that brings us full circle," Draco finished. "I am here now, accused of something I had no control over and actively fought against, and am forced to endure this farce of a trial in which no matter what I or anyone else says about my innocence, you will still pronounce me guilty and send me to Azkaban," Draco finished with a sigh.

He held on to Ginny's hand as best as he could despite the chains holding him in place as the Chief Warlock opened his mouth.

"Despite your claims," the Chief said in his usual hiss, "there is no evidence to support anything you say. Your testimonies will all be labeled as hearsay and will not be considered when this case goes to jury deliberation."

"You can't do that!" Ginny snapped, terrified that he could, and would, do exactly that.

The Chief grinned cruelly as he prepared to break Ginny, but the man froze as footsteps sounded behind Ginny, Draco, Luna, and Blaise. Everyone turned to see Harry Potter, hero of the war and Head Auror, walk down the stairs and onto the trial floor.

"Farce of a trial is a good description," he said softly. "I have to wonder how many people have pled their case in this courtroom and have had their procured evidence ignored. I also have to wonder how many people have not been allowed to plead their case at all." He looked up at the Chief Warlock with a blankly curious expression on his face. "I will be opening an investigation to find out, so please don't be surprised when you discover that I've had an Auror team confiscate all the court records from the past five years as evidence."

"I am the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot!" the Chief gasped in his defense. "I run this courtroom with an iron hand. Anything less would allow these criminals free reign and they would now still be out there terrorizing our citizens." He didn't dare snarl and spit at Harry Potter as he had at Draco Malfoy, but the same curl to his lip was present. He clearly thought he was above the machinations of the Aurors.

Harry shrugged, as if what the man thought was irrelevant. He sighed. "I am here to add my testimony to the other existing ones. I bring evidence seized from the home of Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy upon Mr. Malfoy's arrest."

Harry opened a folder he was carrying and carefully placed picture after picture onto the evidence table. First was an innocent picture of a lily with a dragonfly perched on a petal and next was a painting of a deer drinking from a stream. The pictures continued to appear, lovely and pure and exactly the opposite of the destructive war they had been created during.

Eventually Harry pulled out and showed the pictures Luna had spoken about in her statement. The bouquet of roses with Ginny's birth date in the corner, the box of chocolates for Valentines Day, and finally, the exquisite picture of a man on one knee, ring in hand, were all laid out for everyone to see.

The art style was unmistakable to anyone who had ever seen the framed pictures that had won them the war, except that these pictures were all signed with a tiny _DM_ written in the bottom right corner.

"I believe," Harry said dryly, "that this is all the evidence you need to prove the validity of the testimonies you have heard today. Go and deliberate on whether Draco Malfoy is a malicious Death Eater or a man forced into a bad situation who did the best he could to help the world."

The Wizengamot went.

"Harry," Ginny breathed. "What—why?"

He laughed and dropped the stiff and authoritative act he had been using to intimidate the Wizengamot. "We've always known you can't draw," Harry said, meaning that the Order and her family had known. "We've just been waiting for you to tell us who cared enough about you to risk himself like that—your mum's words, not mine. So when I was in your house, searching for evidence that Malfoy had kidnapped you and I found these pictures next to the bed, well, what else could I do?"

"Thank you, Harry," Ginny breathed, clutching Draco's hand tighter in hers.

"Just make sure you go see your family, like Malfoy told you to, when this is done," Harry grumped. "I didn't do this for nothing, you have to understand. Your mum and your brothers have been bugging me every day for news about you."

"I told you," Draco said quietly.

"Ooh, and think how happy your mum's going to be when she finds out you've married," Luna gasped dreamily.

"Yeah," Blaise said slowly and sarcastically. "Let's not be around for that conversation."

Harry rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "You may not have to tell her," he said, pointing up to the top of the steps where reporters were allowed to watch the trial. The area was full and all of them were scribbling away on parchment with their quills. "You have the greatest love story of the war; you're front page news," Harry said with a laugh that told them he didn't envy them the spot. "Luckily I've put some protective spells on your pictures so they can only use what you give them permission to."

"Thanks," Draco and Ginny said.

They talked about innocuous things for the rest of the wait. Ginny learned about all her nieces and nephews and what her brothers had been up to the last five years. Harry learned more about the romance that had brought them together. And then the Wizengamot filed back in, led by the Chief Warlock.

"I have here the results of this trial," he called into the courtroom. He was holding up an envelope, sealed with magic to prevent it from being tampered with. Each member of the Wizengamot had written their vote on a piece of parchment and put it inside the envelope, which had then sealed itself. Only the secretary to the Chief Warlock could open it.

The Chief handed the envelope over to his beaten looking secretary, a smug look on his face. Clearly he had said something back in the deliberation room that would ensure the verdict went his way.

Then envelope was opened slowly and the first piece of parchment was pulled out.

"Guilty," the secretary read. He pulled out a second piece. "Guilty," he repeated.

Ginny's hand clenched tighter around Draco's.

The third piece of parchment was pulled out and the secretary looked surprised for a moment. He looked over at the Chief before resolutely steeling himself for what he was about to say.

"Auror Potter," he read quickly so he could get every word out before the Chief stopped him. "We have been threatened to vote against our wishes. As I have never married, my parents have passed, and I have no siblings, I do not fear for my family. As I do not care for this job any longer, I do not fear its loss. Therefore, I must state that in the eyes of the law and of this court, the defendant, Mr. Draco Malfoy, is innocent of all charges."

The Chief Warlock dove for his secretary, but Harry's spell froze him in the air.

"You are hereby under arrest for falsifying this trial, for blackmail and threatening this court of law, and for other occurrences I have yet to discover," Harry said sharply. He finished all the other arrest procedures and removed the man from the courtroom.

The secretary stood up, emboldened by his one act of defiance.

"A recount is now necessary. All those in favor of declaring Mr. Draco Malfoy innocent of all charges, say Aye."

The resounding "Aye" that rang through the room was not surprising. Who could say anything different after having the trial end in such a dramatic fashion?

III

Harry had been right, Molly Weasley mused. The love story of the century, he had called it. Well, Draco and Ginny had been front page news for months, but the trial and Draco's days as a Death Eater were a mere footnote when compared to the focus spent on the love story that had won the war.

This time, when they had run, it had not been from the authorities. Draco and Ginny had simply wanted to escape the press and the front-page articles, and the questions over when a new Malfoy was going to join the world. The invasive questions had driven them mad, so they left. Only this time Molly would occasionally get an owl from her baby girl. Molly couldn't help wondering when one of those letters would inform her that her next grandchild was due soon.

Molly laughed to herself as she ran a gentle finger along the frame of the picture she was holding. Draco Malfoy was wearing threadbare robes that had seen better days. Ginny Weasley looked as if she had just come from the battlefield. But this was their wedding picture and the way their hands were clutched together and the brilliant smiles on their faces let Molly know that despite the absence of family, the white dress, and other basic wedding necessities, the day had been perfectly captivating for the happy couple.

Molly put the picture back on the mantle with a smile on her face. Draco and Ginny were picture perfect no matter what the situation. They were in love, and that trumped everything.


End file.
